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Jenn Gardner Oct 2012
1.
Moon multiplied in panes of haunted glass
Renewed in rains long overdue of pink, peach and white.

Fragments floating in turbulent concrete towers
Reducing the million technicolour thoughts to dust.

2.
Blue and white limbs titillating upon destruction
Of the stark grey self succumbing to denegration.

The grandeur is singing as we unlock
The catatonic mistake that we have yet to make.  

3.
Destroying what we had known before the field
Caught fire in oceans contained within.
Her single, sulphuric transparencies.

Lie down to rest in remnants of a world refracted in
The artificial sunlight crying hymns of fabrication.

Misplaced curiosity in solitary places,
Where forlorn cubes eat darkness like ghosts
Graciously accepting fruit in exchange for a wandering eon.
Samuel Bass May 2013
Angie Jolie has a look that melts into her perfect ******* as she teases me into a new world of seduction. Her eyes are a map and her lips show me where to land my ship of seductions. I want her seductions and eruptions filled full of love consumptions.
Catching my beer just short of the head I drink in life… I miss the spice, the strife, the things that make me cream  I want feelings and meanings filled with streaming beings.
Needing something greasy I feel easy and less enthused across a world of misused and abused people that are trained to enjoy the steeple. Dogma, **** it over and **** your dogma. It’s there for you to be a tool.
I miss the hand-kisses and well-wishes. Love’s seduction filled with reduction to the finest elements spent on sweat and tears of fears and folly. I want your lolly and folly filled with me.
******* crazy, it is me.
Me, **** me. The life I chose is interchangeably symbiotic.
FinkZ Sep 2018
Why would she wants to be a pilot
When she is already an angel?

Why would she wants to be inside the cockpit
When she can just spread her wings?

Why would she have to struggle asking permission from the radio tower
When she can fly by her own desire?

Why would bothered about fuel consumptions
When she have a gigantic amount of power?

Why would she thinks about the ground speed
When she can fly with her wings in a high velocity?

Why would she thinks about the minutes
When she can travel with just one click?

Why would she thinks of a distance
When she can just do teleportation?

Why would she afraid of an engine failure
When she have the strength of lifting earth?

What kind of heavenly creature
That have something she concerned?
Does she knows she is an angel?
Shadow Paradox May 2015
~
Floating in a nacre, cream pool
Splattered with ink, dreams, and azoic butterflies
A monolithic love dance begin
Shifting one personality into another

Creating
Defaulting

As three stone bodies

Swirl
and twirl
With a rocky rhythm

Their papery skin
Peel back in finery consumptions
As their minds become one
~
I dream in longhand. Watch slasher movies to control death. No I will not be doing anything for my mental health. God was the first weapon meant to heal time. We don’t all live here. Blood reads but not with all this blood. Be last, be small. Hide your stomach from emptiness. Check your children for bones. Hairdryer for pills.
Andrew Shoemaker Feb 2014
The Darkness overwhelms thee
Consumptions of the Soul.
                         Sensations
                           of Negativity
   Forever I Go Cold.
                    Thoughts provoke The body
    Against all outer will
                    Euphoric pains, they oddly....
       Forever Freeze The Chill.
This was written 2-3 years ago.

for the better feed thy souls
but do not take them as whole
tho humanity seems hard to find
reality not even crossin' minds

livin' dreams 'n' fake believes
whatever man thinks to achieve
rather preparin' their own demise
then be takin' their own advice

people's assumptions hypocriticaly
but to serve themselves their daily meal
with consumptions even as selfishly

so had it somethin' to do with how we feel
where by actin' none but what looks supposedly
leavin' nothin' to acknowledge for bein' real


*..love always...


عرفان بن يوسف © AH 15/03/1437

'a (freestyle meter) Sonnet'
cameran Jul 2014
loose lips
tinged with
alcohol,
and
questionable
morals fill the
spaces left
unoccupied
by my
ever-working
brain. shall
i fall off the
bandwagon
filled with
future scholars
and high class
aristocrats?
will i let myself
astray into the
void of heavy
masked, and
dark-clothed
mischief makers
that take up
residence in
abandoned
buildings
drinking
the bad
times away?
i can't decide
if i wanna
tighten the classy
business casual
tie around
my neck
as a noose,
or take a
walk on
the wild
side and
instead get
crushed by
the emotions
that accompany
free *** and
large alcohol
consumptions.

if choosing the path to freedom is your choice,
than freedom truly is a double-edged sword.
"just pass the ***** please."
Dr YumnaKay Mar 2019
Assuming conclusions,
overruling consumptions,

dynamite love transformed
the dynamics of relationships,
nullifying every chance we had
of reaching a safe harbor...

in the middle of arguments,
words were washed ashore,
and we found ourselves
gazing at each other

from the opposite ends
of our defined spectrums.
God died doing math in a nightmare. Not everyone was able to hide the body. Men without mothers bit themselves thinking it would lead to nakedness. Angels did the same but thought nothing. Fire chased an empty bus past the cemetery of the three things I couldn’t name. Into a small life of startled handguns, people in photos were born. Gameshows, I said plainly, above a hole the ground touches for being hungry.
mikecccc Jul 2023
What sin is it
that desire to consume
consume for consumptions sake
isn't the feeling
not simple gluttony
consume cause you're empty
or at least feel empty
full to burst couldn't possibly
cram more down
but so hollow
surely I should float
what is weighing me down
poor tubby ****.
maybe it's wrath
I do hate myself
could be sloth
I try to run from
the man in the mirror
but why bother
envy pride lust greed
so many possibilities.
I wanted to smoke and look at water. I turned left at a tipped over gas can and walked until I heard fireworks. A small tv was showing god the hole it needed help making. A dryer with a baby in it was won by two mothers. They tried to scream. I made a sound and the sound stayed that way for good. I recognized my kids for years.
God’s stomach is a cigarette trying to eat on the moon. I am asleep in my homage to sleep. In hell you have to give birth to everyone you’ve killed. You can’t have your kids.

— The End —